How Do You Solve A Problem Like Lucas?
by MooseOnARoof
Summary: Spoilers for 6x13 'Moving The Chains! Written using this prompt from LJ -House gets more injured with Lucas's pranks and Wilson has to take care of him and either plans revenge on Lucas or actually does it. Crack!fic


_**WARNING: Spoilers for 6x13 'Moving The Chains' ****This fic is crack! in my eyes. **But I could be wrong._

_Written using this prompt from LJ -**House gets more injured with Lucas's pranks and Wilson has to take care of him and either plans revenge on Lucas or actually does it.**_

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own them. A shame, as then I could buy some new jeans._

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He'd let it slide in the cafeteria, when Lucas had stuck his foot out from beneath the table, sending House and the food all over the floor. He'd let it slide. Just. Although, when he thought about it, he probably would have done something if there hadn't of been so many people standing around. Possibly a swift left hook onto Lucas' smug chin or a kick to the groin. But he'd resisted the urge. Just.

Then House told him he wasn't going to retaliate. Wilson was proud, sort of. Proud that House wasn't willing to stoop to the level of a seedy private detective. But the more he thought about it, the more it didn't sit right in his mind. House, in theory, could have died; could have easily garnered serious injury to add to his already chronic serious injury. Surely Lucas needed to be held accountable for something, even if it was only a tiny theoretical possibility of causing House's death.

Actually, come to think of it, that was more than enough. Any threat to House was worthy of his attention, and if House wasn't willing to extinguish the threat himself then it was up to Wilson to do so, or at least give it a shove in the other direction, to scare the little feral inconvenience back into the woods.

He had been formulating plans in his mind in-between signing repeat prescriptions and clinic duty. He felt like an adult version of Kevin McCallister, scrawling ideas and pictures down in fat red pen, doodling the outline of Cuddy's house, deciding where the flaming bowl of potpurri would fly into Lucas' face when he opened the front door and which doorknobs the super glue would go on. If this was to work then it was going to be unsurpassable.

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Four days had passed and the potpurri/doorknob idea had gone out of the window. He had forgotten all about Rachel living there and he didn't want to be responsible for a child being burned by flaming scented leaves while being glued to a living room door. All his other ideas were either lame or way too much work. He was close to giving up until House gave him another reason to try it all over again.

"Where the hell-- what the hell happened to you?" It hurt just looking at him. Wilson winced along with House's every step, watching as House limped raggedly towards the sofa, his left arm slinged up his chest and a nasty bruise blossomed on his cheek.

"I had a dance off with Nurse Brenda. That woman can throw some aggressive shapes." House let his rucksack slip down his arm, over his cane and onto the floor. He didn't even bother to pick it up, instead he eased himself onto the couch. "I've learned my lesson though. Never grease up the floor before attempting The Worm."

"As feasible as the idea of you doing The Worm sounds, and Nurse Brenda dancing for that matter, I wouldn't mind actually knowing the truth."

"I tripped over her flares." House said straight-faced. "Or her bell bottoms. There was some projectile material somewhere."

So House was either embarrassed or knew it was something Wilson would freak out over. He guessed the latter as that seemed the more regular course of action. "House?"

"Somebody iced around my car. As you know, cripples, canes and ice don't mix."

"You mean Lucas iced around your car?" He couldn't bear to look at House's flush cheek without doing something, so Wilson padded towards the kitchen and grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. "Put this on your cheek." He placed them into House's right hand; he daren't throw them for House to catch. He didn't want to be the cause of more bruising.

"So how was your day off?"

"Screw my day off. What are you gonna do about Lucas?" Wilson picked up the discarded rucksack and dropped it on the coffee table, the added pressure of a heavy bag would only make the floorboards buckle worse than they were already. "I mean...are you... you know, going to the police?"

House raised his eyebrow. "And say what? 'A man put water around my car. It froze and I fell over.' Yes, they'll arrest him right away with a charge of water misuse."

"But it's assault. It's malicious. He could have hurt you...I mean he has hurt you."

"This isn't kindergarten Wilson. It's not like I can run up to the cops sucking my thumb, point at Lucas, screaming that he's being mean to me. I mean I could ask them to kiss the boo boo better but I'm not sure that would make much difference."

"How can you be so blasé about this House? He could have killed you."

"I'm not being blasé." House sat the bag of peas onto the coffee table. "You're the one who told me to ignore it. 'Don't escalate and don't retaliate' were your precise words."

"Yeah well...I was hoping you would ignore me like you usually do. Then go and do something ridiculous like fart in his car. Put sand in his jock strap. Shave his eyebrows while he slept." He doesn't know why he was shouting at House. In reality, he was mad at himself for telling House one thing and expecting him to do another. He should have just let House retaliate and then maybe it wouldn't have come to this.

House shook his head. "How can it be possible for someone to be equal parts confusing and equal parts annoying at the same time!?" He dragged his bag off the table with the end of his cane and begun pulling it across the floor towards his bedroom. "If you're so pissed off why don't _you_ do something about it?"

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Maybe this wasn't the best of ideas. Technically, it wasn't even a prank, but it was the only way Wilson could think of that would get his message across clearly and without any loss in translation.

'Mess with House, you mess with me so back off' was sort of the angle he was going for. But his attempts at being intimidating were pathetic at best. The suit, the perfectly styled hair, and the carefully knotted tie made him look more like an pissed off teacher than anything else. So he needed a little more than just his words and an angry looking stance to make Lucas take note of what he was saying.

"I can get you arrested you know? You're holding me against my will." Lucas smirked with enough sickly smarm to make Wilson's stomach lurch.

"You wouldn't bother... would you?"

"No. But it was worth a try." Lucas shuffled in the chair as much as a man taped to a chair could shuffle. "I think you hurt you my back you know."

Wilson guffawed. "Are you looking for sympathy?"

"A little. I mean you're meant to be the nice one. I thought House was the bastard."

Lucas' brazen attitude was startling and not much to Wilson's taste. "With normal, sane people I would happily give sympathy for an ailing back problem, but people who have almost killed my best friend tend not to get it so much."

"I didn't nearly kill-"

"He slipped in the bath tub! He could have hit his head and died, you idiot!" Flashes of House floating open-eyed underneath red water stormed through Wilson's mind. He looked back at Lucas, all smarm and faded jeans, and had an overwhelming urge to strangle the life out of him for being so nonchalant. What an asshole.

Asshole with a capital A.

"Then you had the audacity to trip him."

"What? He wasn't hurt."

"Doesn't matter. Sane people don't trip cripples."

"Sane people don't jump people in parking lots."

"I didn't jump you in the parking lot."

"You were on my back-"

"Shut up." Wilson turned and pulled an item from the top shelf of the bookcase before sliding it behind his back. Wilson was hoping to turn around and find Lucas shrinking, wide-eyed into the chair, frightened at whatever he had behind his back, but Lucas just sat, unwavering, only a slight raise of the eyebrow indicating he had noticed anything.

"What you got there?"

"Something that I am hoping will help you understand why this has to stop."

Lucas chuckled, his whole body jiggled underneath masses of tape. "You've been watching way too much 24. Sorry Wilson, you're not as scary as Jack Bauer." Before he could muster another giggle, Lucas jolted in his chair as a stinging sensation ran its way up his leg. "What the hell was that?"

"That," Wilson twirled a stick around his fingers, a trick picked up from years of watching House twirl his cane through his fingers, "was a shock."

That had shut Lucas up. Now he sat silently, waiting for another unannounced bolt of pain. "Seriously, Wilson what the hell?"

"Oh don't act innocent. You deserved that and you'll get a lot more if you don't apologise for all that shit you pulled."

"Is that a cattle prod?" Lucas glared incredulously at Wilson's hand.

"A wedding present."

"You gotta cattle prod as a wedding present? Did you marry a cow?"

"Looking back, I guess I did. House must have clocked her before we got married because he bought me this as a subtle hint. Not that it worked." Wilson flicked the button on the end of the stick. A buzz crackled out from the metal. "Now, I need to know that you're sorry."

"What for?"

Wilson poked Lucas in the arm, sending a shudder through Lucas' body. "For icing around his damn car. He came home the other day with a dislocated shoulder because of you. He has a cane as if you didn't already notice."

"Hey that wasn't me." Lucas could only manage to talk through gritted teeth.

"Oh right because the fact his car was the only car to have any sort of ice rink around it was a total coincidence and had nothing to do with your twisted mind."

"My twisted mind? I'm not the one poking a man with a cattle prod in my living room."

"Fine. But I'm not denying that I'm poking a man with a cattle prod in my living room."

"What?"

"I'm not lying. You are. At least, if I am twisted, I am not lying about it. I'd rather a somewhat honest, twisted son of a bitch than a big, fat, lying, twisted son of a bitch."

Lucas eyed warily. "You've lost me."

"I think I've lost myself." Wilson scratched his head, not at all sure where he was going with this. Focus. Back to the matter in hand. "So are you sorry? Do you understand how much shit you've caused him?" He primed himself, cattle prod in hand, aimed squarely for Lucas' right shoulder.

"Does he know how much shit he's caused us? The loft, cutting up her dad's photograph, making things hard for her general."

Bullshit. Wilson pricked Lucas' shoulder. "I bought this damn loft! Not House. I'm paying for this place. Why did you take it out on him? It wasn't even his fault!" He prodded Lucas again. "You should have pranked me if getting payback for the loft was your intention."

Lucas squirmed. "I didn't know that. I thought you guys bought it together."

"Well for a private detective, your research is pretty shoddy. My name is on everything. The loan, the bills, insurance, everything." Wilson turned away in disdain, rubbing a palm down his face. "House just pays me what I need."

"He messed with my girlfriend. Come on Wilson, you bought this place because you thought Lisa messed with House. Surely you can understand where I'm coming from." Lucas' thigh took the brunt of the prodding this time. "Jesus Christ, stop it."

"I can understand getting even. What I can't understand is how you physically hurting House equates to me buying a damn loft. Did I put Lisa in harms way with my buying of the loft? Did she dislocate her shoulder in shock when she discovered it was sold? Or fall and hit her face because the news was too damning?" He hands were gripping the chair, his face only inches from Lucas', who was finally showing some signs of emotion. Wilson hoped it was maybe a little bit of fear with a dash of understanding and a healthy dollop of remorse. "Did some asshole trip her in the cafeteria when he learned of her plight of losing the loft, just to rub it in her face?"

"But-"

"Does it equate Lucas? Does it make sense?"

"Well-"

"Yes or no? Does it equate? Give me an answer, or this," He held the cattle prod aloft. "Will be meeting those." He waves the prod around Lucas' groin.

"Um...um..." Lucas swallowed. "No. No, no, no, it doesn't."

"What did you say?"

"No. It doesn't."

So this what it feels like to be Jack Bauer. Wilson inwardly smiled. He could get used to this. Time to sign off with some sort of phrase to stick in Lucas' mind. "So next time you think about screwing with House just remember that this," Up came the cattle prod. "Will meet those." And down towards the groin again. He fancied doing it again just for dramatic effect but Lucas seemed to have got the message loud and clear.

After slicing Lucas free from the tape, Wilson handed over a grubby brown jacket and led him to the door. "Just remember what I said and we won't have any more trouble." He smiled and watched as Lucas sheepishly wandered down the corridor, closing the door as Lucas' form slid into the elevator.

Now he could officially state that he had won not only this battle, but he'd won the war.


End file.
